


(i never hated you) like i do right now

by theoneinquisitor



Series: tumblr prompts [5]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends With Benefits, Hi have some smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tumblr Prompt, drabble?, they actually probably love each other but ya know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 13:27:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14113332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoneinquisitor/pseuds/theoneinquisitor
Summary: The one where Clarke argues with Bellamy about Greek Mythology and apparently, it's a turn on.





	(i never hated you) like i do right now

**Author's Note:**

> a prompt fill i did a while ago on tumblr and am just now adding to ao3.  
> come hang out with me: octannibal-blake.tumblr.com

“I did not ask you to come over just to have a debate with me, Princess.”

“All I said was that Greek mythology is just another example of patriarchal history,” Clarke says in between gasps as a pair of lips travels the length of her jawline leaving soft kisses long the sharp angles. She hadn’t intended to start an argument. She just so happened to see a copy of Edith Hamilton’s _Mythology_ laying on his coffee table and couldn’t help herself. Any normal person would have just blown it off, especially when considering they’re about to get laid. However, Bellamy Blake is not a normal person. He gets personally offended any time you fudge up history – dates, people, you name it. He’s a know-it-all and he admits it. She should have known her statement would pick a fight.

But fighting with him is half the fun. It’s what started this whole thing in the first place. They first met last year during a required sociology class when he tried to argue with her about the bystander effect. Now, she’s learned that debates are just who he is but at the time, she was fired up and ready to serve him good. She did, by the way, though he refuses to acknowledge she won that argument. Their relationship or whatever the hell you want to call it has been a clusterfuck ever since. They hate each other. Really, they do. But as Raven so eloquently puts it, there is nothing better than a good hate fuck.

She’s absolutely going to hell.

The first time is an accident. They’re fighting, per usual, at his house during their friends annual game night (yes, as fate would have it, they share a lot of mutual friends so Bellamy Blake became a staple in her life whether she wanted him to or not). It’s about something obscure, at this point she doesn’t remember. What she does remember is somehow ending up almost nose to nose with him, chests heaving after their typical exchange of insults, and his eyes flicking down to her lips. The rest, well, it just sort of happened. She had left his house that night adamant that it would never happen again. She hadn’t intended it to, at least, because she hates him and she got it out of her system.

Except she didn’t.

Things spiral fairly quickly from there. So her current predicament is nothing new. In fact, this has been a common occurrence for the last six months. They fight. They fuck. It’s a fun arrangement. Enemies with benefits, if you will.

He places a kiss behind her ear before answering, “And what exactly is patriarchal about it?”

She slides her hand up his bicep, briefly admiring the sculpted muscle before giving a roll of her eyes, “Half the stories are about Zeus sticking his dick where it doesn’t belong.”

His hand, which had been tracing soft patterns into her hip freezes and she feels him sigh into her neck, “No, that’s just the only stories people seem to know how to tell.”

She curls her hand around his neck, scraping at the hair sitting at the nape and he closes his eyes, enjoying the feel of it. It’s one of his many weaknesses, she’s discovered in their time getting to know each other, or, getting to know each other’s bodies, rather. She knows what makes him tick just as he does her – he can find the right places to touch at the drop of a hat, making her go weak at the knees. It’s definitely problematic, for many, reasons. All of which she chooses to ignore. She could let the argument fade there, kiss him until he finally takes her to his bedroom to fuck her good and well. But honestly, she’s having a bit of fun.

Instead, she pulls away from him and offers a sly smile, “If it’s not about Zeus fucking his way through society, then it’s about Hercules or some other Hercules-eque hero trying to prove his masculinity.”

This seems to strike a chord with him. She giggles as he leans back with an audible huff, placing himself on the other end of the couch from her. He picks up the topic of discussion from the coffee table and flips through it. He folds the worn paper book back and shows her a highlighted page. She recognizes the title and rolls her eyes. At a glance, yes, it seems to be the kind of title to make one rethink their stance on women in Greek Mythology. But she’s read it and it does quite the opposite. At least, in her interpretation.

She crawls over to him and climbs in his lap easily, placing each of her legs on either side of his thighs. She can feel his dick twitch underneath her and she grinds down in response. He tips his head back to rest on the couch, the book falling loosely to the side. He’s so easily distracted. She takes the opportunity to leave a hot, open-mouthed kiss on his exposed neck and she feels his hands slide onto her hips, gripping them tightly. She ghosts her lips up, tracing his jaw and gently nibbling his ear. She’s got him right where she wants him, eyes unfocused and unprepared for what she says next.

“But the Trojan Women is a tragedy where the women are left to be tortured because men aren’t around to save them,” she whispers and grinds down once more for further effect.

He lets out a low growl before sliding his hands underneath her ass and standing them both up in one smooth motion. The way he sounds in that moment as well as the ease in which picks her up has her attaching her lips back to his neck, sucking at his pulse point as he carries her to the bedroom. He hears his door shut with an audible slam before he tosses her on the bed, eliciting a weirdly high pitched giggle from her (Clarke Griffin doesn’t _giggle_ under normal circumstances. He just brings out the worst in her).

He stands at the foot of the bed, reaching behind him to grab the collar of his shirt before pulling it over his head. She’s seen him naked a fair amount of times, by now, but looking at him is still such an unparalleled experience. The way muscles stretch across his tan skin, across his torso, and into his shoulders. She has a weird attraction to his shoulders, the dips and curves that continue into his back. He has a very nice back.

She thinks she’s won this argument at this point, having nearly forgotten what they were even talking about as he crawls onto the bed to join her. All she can think about is getting him out of his pants and having him fuck her into next week. She can feel the anticipation of it soaking her panties. As if sensing her thoughts, he gives her a smug grin before sliding his hands underneath her t-shirt, stroking at the soft curves of her hips. He pushes her shirt up, kissing from her stomach to her sternum. His hands find the underside of her bra and he slides them underneath it, barely passing along her breasts. She lets out a soft moan as he does it.

He pushes his mouth over her already hardened nipple, his breath hot through the thin fabric of her bra. She grabs his forearm tightly as he does it, reveling in the feel of his mouth on her. This is what he can do – drive her mad by touching her through her clothes. He’s got an amazing mouth, something she had heard about him before she even knew for herself. She was happy to know that he far exceeded the reputation that precedes him. He’s really fucking talented.

He finally moves up to kiss her and she leans in to meet his lips, but he dodges her, pushing his lips to her ears just like she had to him, “The Trojan Women is a story that gave women, who had little to no say in society, a voice.”

He’s toying with her, she realizes, trying to distract her so that she doesn’t win the argument. Leave it to him to still care about proving he’s right when in the middle of serious foreplay. Actually, she’s pretty sure that the debate is adding something to the foreplay. It’s strangely sexy to hear him talking about greek history while in the middle of turning her on. Two can play that game.

She reaches down and grips the hem of her shirt before pulling it over her head. Her breasts are practically spilling out of her bra, her nipple peeking through the fabric from his earlier attention. Deciding to really step up her game, she reaches behind her to unclasp her bra, leaving her completely naked on top.

His hands are on her instantly as he leans forward to kiss her. The kiss is soft while his hands palm at her roughly, the perfect contrast. He tries to deepen the kiss, tongue tracing at her bottom lip for entrance. Instead she takes his in between her teeth before pulling back and looking him square in the eye, “All it did was make women sound helpless because men weren’t there to save them.”

He kisses her hungrily and this time she doesn’t pull back, letting their tongues mingle as his hand travels down her sides into the waistband of her jeans. She shivers when his thumb runs along her hip bones and threads her hand into his messy curls so she can gently tug at them. Something about pulling his hair really gets him going. He reacts instantly, popping the button of her pants and sliding down her zipper in one smooth motion. He touches her over panties first, smiling against her lips as he feels how wet she is for him. As if to ensure that she loses all potential comebacks for the argument, he wastes no time pushing her underwear to the side so he can slide a finger in between her folds. She moans a bit louder this time as he begins to circle her clit. She pulls at his hair a little more to encourage him.

He slides a finger, then two, into her before he pulls back and presses a kiss to her nose, “It was a representation of all the shit Greek women were going through in real life.”

He crooks his fingers at just the right angle, then, and though it feels fucking amazing, she’s tired of not having the upper hand. She slides her own hand in between them and feels for the erection currently pressed against her thigh. He adjusts slightly, allowing her to be able to slide comfortably underneath his shorts and boxers to grab him completely. He practically thrusts into her hand and she kisses his shoulder as he tenses at the contact.

“It was written by a man,” she finally responds, though it’s a bit lame after all is said and done. At this point, she’s had plenty of foreplay. She lifts her hips from the bed and he doesn’t hesitate to pull grip each side of her jeans and pull them down, underwear included. He tosses them over the edge of the bed before beginning to push her legs over his shoulder. She doesn’t think she can physically take anymore.

“You know I love it when you fuck me with your mouth but if you do not get inside me within the next thirty seconds, I’m going to lose it.”

He laughs then, full and rich, and he backs off the bed with his hands raised in defense, “Your wish is my command, Princess.”

He kicks off his shorts and boxers before crawling on top of her. She spreads her legs, ready to feel all of him but he isn’t quite finished with her yet. He slides his cock over her entrance teasingly, running it up and down her sex but not pushing in. She wraps her legs around his waist to pull him closer but he seems to determined to make her suffer.

“Beg for it,” he growls into her ear. It’s one of the things that makes sex with him so exhilarating. He can be soft and gentle, but also really fucking dirty. And demanding, which came as a surprise to her because she’s the kind of person who has to be in charge but she loves when he tells her what to do. She aches for him in those moments, kind of like now.

“I need you to fuck me,” she complies, locking her eyes into his so he can see how much she wants him. At first, she thinks he’s going to make her work for it a little more, but then he pushes into her ever so slowly, filling her up with all of him. They both moan at the feel of it, familiar, warm, and perfect. He places a kiss onto her collarbone, then on her chin, and her cheek. He starts moving, slow strokes in and out of her as his hand strokes her side. She had been prepared for something rough and quick but the slower pace is so fucking good.

She can feel her orgasm already building, the foreplay having done a good job at getting her wound up. She’s so focused on the feeling in her core, she almost doesn’t hear him when leans his forehead on hers.

“I win.” he says and if she weren’t so fucking into this, she would shove him onto the floor. She wishes she could think of something clever to say back. SOmething witty or snarky but she can’t really focus on anything except the feel of him inside her.

“Bite me,” she manages to get out, the only two words she string together coherently. He only grins when she says it, leaning down to bit her shoulder, eliciting another long moan out of her as he runs his tongue over the mark he definitely left.

“Fuck,” she sighs as he does it, loving the feel of his teeth pressing into her soft skin. While she may have lost the debate, she’s determined to assert herself in some way.

She hooks her leg over his hip and pushes up. He picks up on the hint quickly, allowing her to flip them over so he his on his back and she straddles him. She sinks down onto him, using his forearms for support and she feels much more satisfied watching his eyes nearly roll back into his head.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he tells her, watching her ride him with such reverence it should actually scare her. The first time she had noticed it, it had. But now she understands that Bellamy is just very vocal about his appreciation, he likes telling her how good she look because he knows it gets her off. It does.

She picks up the pace, her breasts bouncing with each movement, and she can feel the edge coming closer. He reaches down to begin circling her clit again, causing her legs to shake uncontrollably.

“Come for me, baby,” he demands, meeting her thrust for thrust as his hand works it’s magic on her as well. His other hand reaches up for her, grabbing her neck and pulling her down into a searing kiss. He kisses his way into her soul, all passion and fire as she finally feels herself teetering over the edge. She moans into his mouth as she comes, and he continues to slam his hips into her. He takes her through the entire orgasm, kissing her like she’s the most precious thing in the world. She can tell he’s almost there as well but still needs that extra push.

“You’re so fucking good,” she purrs into his ear, “You always make me feel so good, Bell.”

He grips her hips in response, his own way of encouraging her to go on. She slows her movement, pushing herself up to his tip before slamming back down, “You look so sexy underneath me like this.”

“Fuck,” he breathes as he watches her, “Amazing, you’re fucking amazing. So good.”

“You gonna come for me, Bell? Huh?” she leans back and places her hands on his thighs, the angle change causing him to curse into the void. She goes with it, rocking her hips back and forth. It doesn’t take long before he taps her thigh and she moves off him quickly, getting him into her mouth before he comes with a guttural moan. She swallows him with a crooked smile as he takes a deep, shaky breath. She collapses next to him on the bed, chest heaving wildly.

He reaches for her, pulling her into his chest and stoking her back gently, eliciting different kind of goosebumps along her spine. The cuddling is a relatively new development, though something they both seem to thoroughly enjoy. She prefers it like this, rather than awkwardly finding her clothes and leaving as quick as possible. She hadn’t thought him a post sex cuddler but he’s into it almost more than she is.

They lay there in silence for a while, just regaining their breath and relaxing into each other. Their debate seems long forgotten until she thinks of it, giggling softly at the thought.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she smiles into his chest, “I think that was the weirdest foreplay I’ve ever had.”

He looks down at her with a smirk, “You’re really hot when you argue greek history with me.”

She pinches his arm playfully, “You just like to fight with me.”

“True,” he agrees, “I also like winning fights with you.”

She scoffs at that, “You rarely ever win.”

“I just did,” he points out, tightening his arm around her when she tries to pull away.

“I call bullshit,” she laughs as she pretends to struggle in his arms, “You distracted me.”

“Face it, Princess, I’m just smarter,” he pins her to the bed with his body before tickling her side. She doesn’t want to laugh, she wasn’t to argue that statement alone, but he’s playing dirty.

“I hate you,” she manages with a laugh and he leans down to kiss her, quick and chaste. He has his signature crooked smile on when he pulls away and she realizes then how completely and totally screwed she is.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says quietly, his hand reaching up to move a stray curl from her forehead, “I hate you too.”

And it isn’t true. Not even a little bit (but it’ll take a little longer for both of them to realize it).


End file.
